


Left Alone - Rewritten

by sulphuriccherry



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sulphuriccherry/pseuds/sulphuriccherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Reichenbach fic, Sherlock comes home and finds out that John is getting married. Sherlock and John begin to feel things that they never felt before. There is unresolved feelings and eventual happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When the sun shines it will shine out the clearer

It had been two years since the fall and it was now two weeks before John's wedding. Over the last year's he was starting to feel okay again but he wasn't quite himself. The fall and loss or Sherlock Holmes... his best friend in the world, had changed him.

The first year he fell into depression, he slept on Sherlock's old bed and cried himself until he couldn’t cry anymore. And after the funeral he stopped speaking to everyone; Greg, Molly and especially Mycroft. He spoke to Mrs Hudson on occasion, but when he did he always felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to say to her. She just kept mentioning his name, Sherlock’s name. And John could hardly bare it.

John rarely left the flat. Every time he tried to, he saw Sherlock on every street. Every corner and every place they used to eat were plagued by the ghost of his former best friend.

The Detective was stuck in his head in fact Baker Street was surrounded with his scent. Pictures of him were everywhere, and the hat – well the hat was exactly where Sherlock had left it. John couldn't even bring himself to use or get rid of Sherlock's shampoo.

During the second year John’s sister; Harry, had come over to stay for a while and tried to help him. But he was mean and cold to her. Not that he meant it of course, grief changes people. John had lost all hope of ever being happy again. When Harry brought him along to a friend’s get together he met a beautiful lady called Mary and before he knew it they were on a date, getting engaged and now a fortnight away from marriage. 

John hadn't been back to the flat at Baker Street in such a long time. But he decided on the two year anniversary he would go back. One last time. When he knocked on the door, Mrs Hudson let him up but they did not speak.

When he walked up the stairs he walked slowly, his fingers gingerly touching the walls as flashes of memories flowing through his mind. Laughing, running, fighting, crying. Okay so the crying was mostly him and mostly after Sherlock. When he approached the living room it was barely lit, and only then by the sun's rays through the curtains. Taking a hesitant breath in he walked around, fingertips grazing the seat that his best friend used to sit at.

He slowly walked into Sherlock's room and opened the door. John closed his eyes, trying to flush the pain out. His heart felt a pang of regret from not being back here. 

His next stop was the bathroom. It was the same as Sherlock had left it. There was an experiment in the sink, mouldy but untouched. Apparently Mrs Hudson had the same problem as John did with getting rid of things.

The Doctor looked in the mirror and noted that he was greyer than he had been last time he was there. The shine had left his eyes. Even he could tell. He decided he was going to take a shower – so John pulled off his shirt and stepped into it, closing his eyes as the hot water poured down onto him.

John felt, if only for a moment that he was okay again. It was like he was going to walk out the bathroom and Sherlock would be composing something pretty. If he tried he could almost hear the sweet melodies playing through him. Like coming home.

Opening his eyes he saw Sherlock's shampoo. John hesitated. The last thing that he would ever forget was the way Sherlock smelled. The smell was almost indescribable, it was a mixture of cleanliness and cigarettes at the same time, as well as Sherlock's own sweet smell. One that could cradle the doctor slowly into a coma if it tried. He missed it so much, in fact he rather craved it.

John picked it up and opened the cap, bringing it up to his nose and smelling it. He let the scent envelope him as it brought him close to tears. He emptied it onto his hands and ran it through his hair, feeling overwhelmed he began to cry.

Ten minutes later he was all cried out so he stepped out of the shower and flung a towel around him. He knew Mrs Hudson wouldn't care if he spent the day there. She was always too kind to him. He wasn't entirely sure he deserved it.

He finished in the bathroom and walked into the kitchen, smiling as he saw parts of experiments lying on the countertops. John realised that the room was much colder than it was when he first came in. As he walked into the living room to investigate he noticed that the curtains were flowing, meaning that someone had opened the window.

John looked behind him to see if Mrs Hudson came upstairs, but she hadn't.  

"That's weird." He murmured as he walked over to it, still with a towel around him. He closed it, and as he did he stopped, watching out the window. John felt like he had someone's eyes piercing into him. Perhaps Mrs H had come in after all? Or maybe it was one of the other tenants? He sighed deeply.

"John." A deep raspy voice spoke. That voice. The voice John heard in his head when he was trying to sleep. The voice that he dreamed about. The voice that nursed him in verse as he nearly followed it to the grave. Sherlock's voice.

John's eyes clenched shut and he tried not to react. He shook his head, trying not to let out any emotions.

"You're just another hallucination." John spoke softly. "You're not real. I never should have come back." He balled up his fists and walked towards the door. Except now he halted in his steps, because the voice spoke again.

"John, don't go. I'm here. I'm back."

He didn't want to believe it. Only because that would mean he went through all that pain for nothing. Slowly he turned, he turned to see the figure of a man sitting in the couch. The man's gaze sent shivers down his spine.

"Sherl-" he started. He couldn't finish because he knew he would cry if he did. 

The man's eyes were the same, and had a hint of sadness in his eyes. His hair was longer, and he looked much thinner than before. But it was definitely him.

"John. I'm real. I'm alive." Sherlock stood up and walked over to him. John took one step back. His eyes searched over the man. John reached out to make sure he wasn't imaging it, his fingers met with Sherlock's chest.  He couldn’t believe it, he wanted to, but he couldn’t. John breathed through his nose and clenched his jaw.

There was a moment where Sherlock didn't know if he was going to hit him or smile. John didn't know either. After a few seconds John's fingers were tracing the line of Sherlock's jaw, he pulled him in for a hug. 

John couldn’t understand what was happening, it seemed like a hallucination, god knows he has had them before. But they were never this real. Pressed against the man, he became more and more aware of what was happening. John Watson was standing in 221B, half naked, crying into the chest of his not-so-dead best friend, whom was swaying him ever so slightly.

John wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pressing them together. He began to sob into the man’s clothes. His heart and throat deceiving him and making him break down, soaking the other man in tears.

Sherlock's arms found their way to John's waist and he dug his head into John's hair. He kissed the top of his head. After listening to his best friends cries, he too began to cry. John could feel Sherlock’s lip quavering against his head, as they continued to hug it out.

"I missed you- you bastard." John wept.

"I missed you too John. I missed you too."

John stayed over at Baker Street that night. They sat in silence for a while in their own chairs and drank tea. He texted Mary to say he would be out for the night, but he didn’t tell her about Sherlock. Not yet. Not while it was still new.

  
For now he needed Sherlock to be his, just his and his alone. If everyone knew then everyone would be around and John wouldn’t be able to soak up his best friend’s attention.

  
Sherlock slept in his bed and John in his own. Well, John tried to. At about one in the morning he gave up – he needed to see Sherlock again. All he could think was it had all been some sort of crazy dream. John had to feel Sherlock near him – he felt like he was being pulled towards the man like a magnet.

  
Before he knew what he was doing, his legs made him get out of his bed and made his way to Sherlock’s bedroom. Once he was at the door, he paused.

John knew that Sherlock didn’t like having people in his bedroom, but hopefully tonight he would make an exception. John slowly opened the door and looked down to Sherlock sleeping. He was lying on the far side of the bed, facing the door. One hand under his head and the other on the pillow beside him.

  
The Doctors heart filled up with warmth as he carefully pulled back the covers and got in. He snuggled beside the detective and perched himself up on one elbow to watch over Sherlock. He needed to make himself believe that he was back. Every breath that Sherlock let in made John even surer that he was going to be alright again.

  
Without thinking John moved his hand to stroke Sherlock’s black curls, moving his fingers through them slowly. He stopped when he heard Sherlock groan. The cutest sounds that John had ever heard had come from the man lying beside him. The detectives eyes remained closed as he opened his mouth.

“People might talk Watson.” Sherlock spoke.

“I’m afraid they already do.” John grinned, as he carried on stroking the man’s hair. It was as soft as he imagined it to be. _Wait, he had imagined what Sherlock’s hair felt like? He guessed he did._

“Why are you not asleep?” The detective spoke again, with a soft raspy voice.

“Couldn’t sleep. I needed to make sure I wasn’t imagining it. I really can’t cope if this is a dream.”

John’s voice nearly broke out during his confession. Although Sherlock’s eyes were shut, John still could not meet them. Instead he focused on his hand, moving softly through the other man’s hair.

“I assure you it’s not. I’m never going to leave you again John.” Sherlock felt regret running through his veins, hoping that these sincere words would make the other man feel just a little better.

“You’d better not. Sherlock. Thought I’m so glad you’re home. Will you tell me what happened while you were away?”

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked over John’s face, he watched the man’s expression’s change. He took in the emotions that he could read in his doctor’s eyes.

  
Misery- from seeing his best friend fall and die on front of his eyes. Knowing that he thought he was nothing but a fraud. He saw sadness, the kind that could tear you apart.

He deduced that there was something John wasn’t telling him.  
He saw a hint of anger. Probably because Sherlock for putting him through that.  
And lastly he saw admiration. Through everything, John still looked at him as if he were the only thing in the world.

He missed that look. When he was away he got no sentiment, no smiles or laughter, no one caring enough to force him to eat or sleep or take time for himself. He had no John. He needed John. In truth the only thing that got Sherlock through the last two years, was the thought of seeing John again.

“I promise you John. I will tell you everything tomorrow. It will all be back to normal. Just you and me. But now let’s sleep.”

No more was said. John nodded and lay down beside Sherlock. They lay facing each other as they drifted off to sleep. John couldn’t get close enough. He needed to feel that Sherlock was always there. If he opened his eyes and Sherlock was gone, he doesn’t know what he would do. He needed to feel Sherlock there. 

John’s hand found its way to Sherlock’s waist and pulled him close enough so their bodies were against each other. John was thankful that Sherlock didn’t pull away. They could feel each other breathing as they slept the whole night.

No night terrors, no bad dreams, just the feel of the other next to them.


	2. Whatever happened, happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John talk and Sherlock finds out John is married.

When the sun started to come through the curtains, its rays caught John's eyelids, waking him up slowly. He smelled the sweet scent of Sherlock around him, but when he opened his eyes and spread out his hands to find the other man he then realized he had woken up alone. He looked around the room, jolting out of any leftover sleep he may have been feeling.

"Not again!" His voice broke, fear in his eyes that last night had been a lie. Everything that had made him feel less broken was gone. He ran out the room to the lounge. No one.

"John. Do you want some tea?" 

John jumped and looked around to Sherlock who was standing in the kitchen holding the kettle. 

"Please." He answered, covering the fact that he was about to cry. John slowly went to sit on his chair as Sherlock came over with two cups of tea. There was a two minute silence where they did not look at each other nor speak.

"Do you want anything to eat Sherlock?" John spoke.

"No, I ate yesterday."

"You need to eat- don't think because you've been away for so long that I am gonna let you drive yourself into an unhealthy state. You’ve gotten thinner, don’t think I haven’t noticed/" John looked up at the man whom was towering beside his seat.

"I've missed that about you."

"Nagging at you? How bad was wherever you were?" John joked dryly.

"Yes." _I missed all of you._

"I suppose you would like me to indulge you with the specifics?" He too sat down.

The Doctor took a sip of his tea and placed his gaze on Sherlock's face. He nodded in reply - not trusting himself to speak just yet.

"Well." Sherlock started... he didn't know what to mention first.

"I... uhm.  I was taking down a terrorist organisation. It required me to enter seventeen different countries- I was kidnapped a few times and I was tortured even more. I lived underground for a while, I barely ate or slept. I broke a few couple of bones… but they’re all fixed now. It was horrible. I didn’t want to do it. The reason I ‘died’, if I didn't fake my death… Moriarty would have killed you."

John's eyes were attached to Sherlock's. He didn't know what to think - what to believe. He wanted to believe his best friends confession, but he found it hard. Because all he knew was that he was dead, and now he knows that Sherlock was so close to death so many times. He couldn't handle it.

"Bullshit. If that did happen, how are you so calm right now?"

There was a silence. Sherlock mumbled something that John couldn't quite hear. 

"What was that?!" John was getting angry, everything that had been said and done was getting to him. He could have told John and he could have protected Sherlock.

"I'm broken John. I'm not the same man I once was." Sherlock looked down, fear and guilt written in his expression. John read this and felt his heart start to break. He leaned forward and put a hand on Sherlock's knee and squeezed it. The detective met his friend’s eyes once more and bit his bottom lip.

"I'm truly sorry John. I didn't mean to cause any pain. In truth I didn't think anyone would miss me."

"What?" John stuttered, sitting back in his chair. "Are you kidding? Sherlock from the moment I saw you on that roof until now I have been in the worst pain you could imagine. I missed you every second, everything about you! Even when you would yell at me and call me an idiot. I heard your voice and saw your face at every turn. For fuck sake Sherlock, Greg took a month off of work, Molly hasn't spoken to many people at all and Mycroft has been intolerable."

"He knew John. He was acting. He didn't care." Sherlock played with his fingers.

"He came over, he texted and emailed me to make sure I was okay. He upped my surveillance. In fact if he didn't he wouldn't have saved my life..." John spoke slowly, he thought about that day. The day where the pain was so bad that he had sat in Sherlock's chair, lifting the cold silver gun to his head. Tears clung to his face, as his eyes tightened shut. He didn't hear Mycroft storm in, he only heard Sherlock's voice saying goodbye.

Snapping back into reality, John winced. The detective's eyes were studying him. Noting all the small things, like how John was feeling, what he was wearing. He was admiring the other man, realizing how deep in love he had actually felt.

"He saved your life?" Sherlock's eyes widened and his eye brows raised. He was surprised that John would need someone to save him, but he was thus terrified. Sherlock knew that he would be in danger leaving Baker Street and London, but he did not account for John being in any more danger. That's why he left. For John.

John broke out into a sob. "Sherlock you have no idea how much I need you. I couldn't live without you and I tried to kill myself. If Mycroft hadn't forced himself into the house and pried the gun from me, I'd be dead."

Sherlock didn't know what to think, he wanted to tell John everything he felt and everything he thought. In the two years he was away, much worse had happened to him than he would ever tell John. He was abused in so many ways, beaten and torn apart. Sherlock didn't sleep anymore, he usually just stared into the skies. But last night, he felt happy enough to sleep- contempt because he finally got to do what had been keeping him going the past two years. The idea of John, there and caring about him, gave him strength.   
He held onto the hope that Sherlock would return and John would be there, happy to see him and well. But only have of it was true, the man before him was as broken as he was.

  
A year after the fall, Sherlock realized that the things he had never said to John wouldn't leave him alone.  
He missed John's smile, his jumpers, his nagging and the way they always seemed to be closer than anybody else was. Sherlock had realized that he was in love with him, and as soon as he did, nothing could break him down. Because the thought of going back to John and telling him how he felt, kept his heart strong.  
But seeing John so out of sorts, he wondered if it were a good idea.

"I'll have to send him some flowers." Sherlock half joked. John's lips curved up slightly at the corner, flickering a smile at the other man. His hands wiped away the tears and he sat up, tall, with pride, as if he wanted to forget the crying, the weakness.

"So. You came back?"

"I finished my case John. I needed to come home." _To you_. "I needed our life back. Me and you-" He took a hasty breath in, he was going to tell him. He couldn't keep it to himself any longer. "John, I-"

"I'm getting married." John charmed in. Sherlock sat up in shock. The cup of tea fell out of his hands and smashed onto the floor, leaving small pieces of ceramic falling around the floor and a tea stain on the carpet. His breath became erratic, he felt like he was going to have a panic attack. John.  _His_  John was getting married to someone else. Sherlock had been replaced. He wanted to scream or weep, in his head he was crying. In his head he was begging John to love him and not the other person. In his head he was cursing at himself for being home too late, he could have skipped Serbia, he could have pulled John in and kissed him as soon as he saw him yesterday. But alas, he did not do any of this. Instead he looked ahead of him, expressionless.  

"Sherlock? Are you okay?"

Sherlock was in silence for another minute before he spoke.

"Okay."

"You'd like her Sherlock. She is beautiful, smart, funny-" John spoke on, but Sherlock drowned him out. He didn't want to know. What he heard was something a little different.

_She is more beautiful than you. She is smarter than you. She is funnier than you._

Little pieces of his heart broke like the mug on the floor. He forced himself to smile. Sherlock knew he had to hide his disdain, his love, his heartache and his misery. John watched as his best friend sported a large grin.

"Congratulations John." He spoke. "I'm happy for you."  _I'm not._

"Thank you Sherlock. It means a lot."

They spoke in detail for a few hours. Sherlock agreed to meet Mary, he also agreed to be John's best man. He only said yes because he couldn't refuse that beautiful face that he loved and missed so much. But he didn't want to go, if there was a way to miss it he would take it. But he thought faking his death again would be at bit too extreme. Sherlock begrudgingly took on the role of helping them with their plans for the wedding and thus digging himself into a deeper hole of despair.

He should have realized that he was un-want able. Untouchable. He should have known that John saw him as nothing more than an asexual friend, with no feeling. John had mentioned this before, calling him a machine. John was right, Sherlock was a machine. A machine that's heart only beats for one, and since that one had no chance of being his, at least he had a chance of being happy. Sherlock decided he would do anything to make sure his blogger wore a smile. Anything.


	3. The way your eyes sparkle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets Mary

Two days later they had arranged to meet up. John had reserved a table at Angelo's for six o'clock - so naturally Mary and John were sat waiting at the restaurant at 6:34 when John finally decided to call Sherlock.

He called once, and it rung out. He angrily typed in the number again and called it.

On the other end, Sherlock was sitting on his chair, holding his hands beneath his chair. He wanted to go for John's sake, but he didn't think he could stomach seeing John being all cutesy with another person. He tried not to think about the object of his affection holding hands, gazing longingly and god... kissing, actually kissing someone on front of him?! It turned his stomach. He knew he had to go, he didn't want John to hate him, but Sherlock decided he would turn up late just to prove to John how much it burdened him to go.

His phone rang in his pocket, he decided to ignore it the first time as he was too busy thinking. It rang a second time, _fine._

"Sherlock?"

**"John."**

"Where are you? - We've been here forever."

**"I am still on my way. Got held up."**

"Are you okay? Did you get in trouble on the way over?" John ran his hands through his hair as he pursed his lips.

**"No, I'll be there soon okay?"**

Sherlock hung up before he heard John's answer. He sat for another five minutes before he finally pushed himself to a stand. Sighing hard he stared at his phone screen-saver. Sherlock, as everybody knows, was not a man for sentiment. In fact, he loathed any forms of emotion or intimacy. But he did secretly keep a picture of himself and John on his phone, it kept him going. He would stare at it at night, and it would give Sherlock comfort.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock strode through the door's to Angelo's. He walked over to the table and placed a fake smile on his face.

"John, Mary." He nodded and held out his hand for Mary to take.

Mary was beautiful. She stood up and smiled, her blonde hair making her eyes stand out. Her make up was done beautifully, and she wore a well fitted purple dress. She placed her hand in Sherlock's and greeted him.

"Hello Sherlock, it's such a pleasure to meet you."

"I know." Sherlock smiled and sat down. 

John tried his best to involve everyone in conversation. They talked about work first, pointing out that Mary worked with John at the doctors surgery as a nurse/secretary. They spent a few good minutes, (30 mins to be precise), talking about Sherlock and his cases. He had to give it to Mary, she was really charming and beautiful, and she seemed to care about John a lot. 

Sherlock had planned to hate her. He had told himself, that under no circumstance, would he be nice to her. But now he had met her, he couldn't help it. Sherlock had tricked himself into thinking he was okay, he could do it. He could be around them and not feel jealous and angry and upset and heart broken. 

Well, Sherlock would of been able to do that, if when desert hadn't come by - Mary hadn't of wrapped her arm around John's neck and kissed his cheek. Sherlock's eyes squinted as he began to feel the spread of jealousy and hate through him.

He watched John and Mary kiss and touch and be all relationship-y and he couldn't stand it. Even before any of them had finished, he dropped his fork and stood up. The others looked up as the detective wrapped his scarf around him.

"I am so sorry to cut this short but I'm going to." 

With that last comment, he turned and swiftly walked out the door. Mary gave a questioning look to John, who just shrugged and shook his head. 

"He does that." 

After dinner, John tried calling Sherlock to ask him what was wrong, but there was no answer. Obviously. Even when Mary and John got back home, he called. But he figured that Sherlock must have put his phone on silent. Which in itself was a weird thing because from all the time John knew that man, he always had his phone on loud. Even when The Woman changed his tone to an erotic moan, he kept it on loud - so everyone could hear.

Something really must be up. 

Before bed, he pulled out his phone again and texted Sherlock.

**Hey. Thanks for coming out. Mary seemed to like you, I hope you liked her. I hope you are okay - you ran out pretty fast. I tried to call you but, seems like you don't want to talk to me. I'm always here Sherlock -JW**

 

When Sherlock got the text he was lying in his bed, staring up at the cracks in his ceiling. He tried to figure out why this stupid feeling hurt so much, this is why he always avoided them. He didn't want to feel like this, like he was about to burst out crying at any moment. His heart broke as he was lying there. Before he knew it he had started to cry. The great Sherlock Holmes crying? He hated himself for it. He cried into his pillow as tears fell out his eyes for two reasons; one because of the intense emotion left inside him from the heartbreak of his first and hopefully last love, and two; because he hated himself.

John was the first person to ever call him brilliant. Not even his parents liked him that much. He was always told to 'shut up' or 'piss off' or people would yell at him and call him 'FREAK'. But things were different with John. John saw in him all the good - all the talent. He stayed with him through his strops and his moods, and when people labeled him a fraud, John fought back for his honor.

John had helped him through drugs and his depressive outbreaks. John had been there to tell him when he was being too mean, or rude or modest, which to be honest Sherlock loved. He loved it when his Watson looked at him as if he was a god, or told him off for not eating or sleeping. His phone went off and he almost considered not answering it.

After a few minutes he picked up the phone and read the text, his eyes misting again. 

His fingers hovered over the screen and typed out a reply.

**Goodnight John. SH**

Sherlock turned over, pressed his face into his tear-stained pillow and forced himself to sleep.


	4. Texts to Sherlock.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter.  
> With the wedding nearing and Sherlock nowhere to be seen, John texts Sherlock

Sherlock are you okay? -JW   8:52

Sherlock answer me please. -JW 9:15

Me and Mary are going out to the movies today, want to come?-JW  11:00

Or should that be Mary and I? -JW  11:13

I'm really trying here Sherlock. -JW 13:00

Would you please answer me? -JW  16:37

Just so I know you are alive? -JW    16:45

Please eat something today. -JW    19:26

Tell me that you ate something. -JW  21:08

Even if it is just an apple, please eat it. -JW 21:23

Goodnight Sherlock. Sleep well. -JW  23:56

I can't sleep. I need to hear from you. -JW 02:31

Sherlock, fucking answer me you git. -JW  02.45

**Hi. SH** 02:50

Oh my god Sherlock, you're okay! - JW 02:51

**Seem's so. Are you? SH** 02:53

I am, now I've heard from you. I miss talking to you. - JW 02:54

 **You miss me? I didn't think you would. I miss you too. SH**  02:56

Are you drunk? That's really nice to hear. -JW 02:58

 **No. Good.**  02:58

What have you done today? -JW 03:00

**Helped George with a case. SH** 03:03

You mean Greg? -JW 03:05

**Probably. SH** 03:07

Did you solve it? -JW 03:09

**Do you need to ask? Would of preferred if you were there. SH** 03:11

I would of liked it too. I was stuck doing wedding stuff. Bored out my mind. -JW 03:13

**You don't have to you know? SH** 03:15

 

What get married? -JW 03:17

**Miss out on cases. SH** 03:20

I don't want to, you know? -JW 03:22

**Wouldn't hurt to say it. Why did you text? SH** 03:23

I haven't heard from you, I was worrying. -JW 03:25

**Don't worry about me. SH** ~~~~ 03:27

I always worry about you. Are you still up for the stag do on the weekend? -JW 03:28

**Sure. Just you and me? I'm in. SH** 03:30

Haha. You want me all to yourself? -JW 03:35

 

**Always. See you then. Goodnight. SH** 03:35

What does that mean? -JW 03:37

Sherlock? -JW 03:40

Goodnight Sherlock. -JW 03:45


End file.
